“Maybe you should join the force. I have to tell you that I’m not pleased about your detecting. Murder is serious business. I don’t want you getting hurt and I think I can do my job without you putting yourself in danger.”
“I’m not in any danger.”
She heard him sigh on the other end of the phone. “I have to tell you that you’re making my job more difficult.”
“Don’t mean to, but I thought you should know all this.”
“Thank you for the information.”
“That’s it? ‘Thank you for the information?’” Michaela started pacing her kitchen floor.
“What do you want me to say?”
“I want you to go and question Cynthia Bancroft. I don’t know, maybe ask her if she killed my uncle or if her lover did. I also want you to see what was going on at my uncle’s ranch with the AI program. Also, there’s a big-time developer who wanted to buy my uncle out. Kevin Tanner. Have you talked to that creep?”
“You have been busy.”
Was he mocking her? Ooh, this guy knew how to get under her skin! “Obviously busier than you. You just want to sew this thing up, and I hate to tell you, Detective, I don’t think it’s as simple as it looks.”
“Why don’t you let me and my people decide that? I will look into everything you’re telling me. I’m not discounting anything you’ve said. It’s my job to try and take this type of information and sort through it. See where it all might fit. I am not putting you on the back burner. I promise.”
“I sure hope not.”
“I also have some news for you. About fingerprints on your pitchfork.”
Michaela calmed herself. She wanted to hear this. “You do?”
“Yes. It seems a Ms. Kirsten Redmond’s prints showed up along with yours.”
“Kirsten?”
“Yes.”
“Well, have you asked her about it?”
“I plan to. I can’t arrest her on anything. Not yet, anyway.”
“Not even for harassment?”
“She may have an explanation.”
“What kind of explanation?”
“We’ll have to wait and see. I haven’t reached her yet, but I will keep trying until I do. And, I’ll see what I can find out about Mr. Yamiguchi, as well as Mrs. Bancroft.”
“Thanks,” Michaela replied and hung up the phone.
Damn! Just when she thought she might have it all figured out, Davis sideswiped her with the news about Kirsten. None of it made any sense to her. None of it at all.
TWENTY-SEVEN
AFTER PERFORMING HER MORNING RITUALS, Michaela got ready for Uncle Lou’s funeral and put on a simple black dress. After today, she’d likely burn it. The stupid dress would hold too much pain. Strange thing to think about, but it was a reminder, and reminders carried plenty of weight with them.
She slipped into a pair of classic black pumps. Her hands shook slightly as she tried to apply a little makeup. She pulled her hair back into a sleek, low ponytail and tied it up into a chignon. Today would be rough.
Ethan had offered to give her a ride, but she’d already planned on going to the service with her mom and dad. Camden didn’t feel right about going with her family. “I’ll be there,” she said. “This day needs to be about your family and your uncle. I’m always running late, as you know, and I don’t want to hold you back or be a pain. Not today anyway.” She smiled, and Michaela was grateful that her friend knew how to act when the occasion called for it.
Michaela’s parents were waiting out front when she drove up to get them. Good. She wanted to get through this day as quickly as possible. Their mood was solemn. She smiled at her mom, who looked as if she’d already been crying.
“Hi,” her dad said. “You doing okay?”
She nodded her lie. “How about you?”
“Oh, you know. It isn’t easy.”
She believed there was a double entendre in his words. She knew that once they got past this, she would have to help her dad through what she figured would in some ways be more difficult for him to recover from than losing his brother. His addiction had been shrouded in secrets and lies. It was his vice, and allowing it to die and be buried would be something that he couldn’t accomplish in a day. Every day of his life, her dad would have to bury his gambling addiction. Michaela was determined to help him through it.
They shared small talk on the way to the funeral home, and her mom went over the day’s schedule. After the services there would be the gathering at her parents’ place.
A handful of people had already arrived at the funeral home. The director seated the family up front and off to the left, where they could look out and see others inside the home, and the guests could view them. It was almost like a separate room, but still open.
Her dad grabbed her hand and squeezed. She had the feeling he needed her more today than she needed him, and that was okay. Her mom took tissues from her purse and handed a couple to Michaela. She whispered, “Just in case.”
Soon Cynthia came in, escorted by Dwayne. Sam waddled in behind them. Dwayne nodded toward them. Cynthia offered a weak smile. Then she looked right at Michaela, and her eyes, filled with anger, bore straight into her. Davis must’ve talked to her, because Michaela had never seen that look before. And, Cynthia had to have put two and two together. How? She wasn’t sure, but that could be the only explanation as to why Cyn was looking at her that way. Interesting that she was on Dwayne’s arm . . .
Oh, God. It struck Michaela like a horse kick in the face. Dwayne and Cynthia! Maybe he was her lover and he was the father of her baby and together they’d killed her uncle! But Dwayne had been in Vegas that morning. Still, Cynthia wasn’t. Could she have taken Uncle Lou out before going off to the gym? And . . . oh, wow. Maybe Joey was right. Cyn had asked Michaela to look into the breeding scheme. Could it be to cover her own tracks? She didn’t have time to let her mind run away with her. The room was filling up and she saw the pastor head toward the pulpit.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught another familiar face: Davis. He gave her a slight wave. She nodded and tried to smile in spite of everything. Why was he there? Out of respect? Doubtful. She’d heard somewhere before that killers often showed up at the funerals of their victims. Yes. That had to be why he was there. Watching people. Seeing their reactions. That meant he’d taken seriously what she’d told him the night before. Cynthia’s anger toward her proved that. He wasn’t blowing her off like she’d feared. Good man, she thought.
With her parents on either side of her, she almost felt like a child again. And on this surreal day that security flooded through her, as her six-year-old self returned momentarily, and she reveled in the comfort.
Once the pastor took the pulpit all was calm, actually peaceful. Michaela listened to his words of faith and an eternal afterlife. The scent from the roses covering the casket wafted throughout the room. She’d been raised Catholic, so she understood the meaning of the pastor’s words. Lou had not been much of a churchgoer, but she knew that when he did attend, it was at the Presbyterian Church. She noticed that there were far less rituals than in the church she was accustomed to. The pastor spoke freely of Lou’s love for his animals, his wife, and his family. His wife. Traitor! Her mind conjured up worse words, but she pushed them aside, as they felt blasphemous, considering. When the pastor ended with an invitation to accept Christ, he asked if anyone wanted to share a story or talk about Lou.
Ethan approached the pulpit first. With tears running down his face he said, “Lou Bancroft was the only father I ever really knew. He was my friend and an excellent man. I will miss him dearly as I know you all will, too.” He started to choke on his words. After a pause, Ethan went on to tell a funny story about when he was a kid and Lou thought the best way to teach him to ride was to put him on an ornery pony that enjoyed bucking him off regularly. “Lou would tell me that I’d better get back up on that pony and ride him, or I’d never learn. So, I’d get back on him, and to this day I think
it was the best thing anyone ever taught me. I learned to persist. Granted, Lou did give me a hard hat, so I wouldn’t bash my head in.” Quiet laughter sounded throughout the room. Ethan wiped away his tears. “Goodbye, my friend.”
Michaela wanted to run to him, wrap her arms around him, and hug him tight—let him cry on her shoulder, like when they were kids, although it was usually her crying on his shoulder. He always teased her about being a big cry-baby. She watched as he slid in next to Summer, who put her head on his shoulder. Talk about irony. She tried not to watch.
There were more stories from friends and people Lou had dealt with over the years about his honesty, his gentle touch with horses, his humor, and his love for life.
Finally, Michaela mustered the courage to go up. She shifted her weight back and forth, looking out at the sea of faces, not sure if she could go on. Then, she looked at her dad, who winked at her.
“My uncle Lou was the most decent person I have ever known. When I was a little kid he taught me the meaning of compassion by showing me an injured mare and how to take care of her. He taught me how to ride, and in many ways he is the reason that I train horses today. When I was a teenager I could go to him and tell him pretty much anything, and that lasted until only a few days ago.
“He knew what it meant to laugh and enjoy life. He wasn’t a risk taker, but when he wanted something he went for it. He was the type of person who knew how to find balance, and stay balanced. We will miss his warm, easy smile and all that he had to give. For me, the one thing that seems to help the most is the idea that he is still close by. He remains in our hearts, our souls, and memories, and no one can take that from us. Thank you.”
She spotted Camden in the back, who smiled at her. Thank God she had her friend back. She also spotted Joey, True blue, that man. As she stepped down she glanced over at Davis again. He nodded and smiled at her, a look of sympathy in his eyes.
Michaela took her seat as the pastor announced the gathering that would take place at Ben and Janie Bancroft’s place.
Moments later everyone filed out of the home, and because Lou had chosen to be cremated, there was no actual burial. Cynthia stood at the front and greeted guests. “I’m sorry for everything,” Michaela told Cynthia.
Cynthia nodded. “Thank you,” she replied coolly.
Dwayne stood next to Cynthia. It took everything she had not to say anything to the two of them. She wanted to scream at them both: “I know what you’ve done!” But soon enough Davis would solve this case. And, maybe that was why he was really there. Waiting for the services to be over. Shadowing Dwayne and Cynthia, preparing to arrest them. Had he found out something new? Something that revealed they were more than just lovers, that they were also killers?
Michaela’s parents chose to stand with Cynthia at the front. Why wouldn’t they? They had no idea what Michaela knew. She decided to head for the truck, not feeling like talking to anyone. She had to get out of there.
Davis grabbed her arm as she was walking out. “That was a beautiful eulogy you gave. Touching. I really thought you did a nice job.”
“Thanks. I get the feeling you’ve spoken with my uncle’s wife?”
He nodded. “Early this morning. You’re right, she is pregnant.”
“I knew it.”
“But she wasn’t keeping a lover. At least, I’m fairly satisfied with that.”
Michaela put her hands on her hips. “What do you mean?”
“Mrs. Bancroft showed me appointment cards with a Dr. Collins.”
“Dr. Collins?” Michaela knew him quite well. He’d been her doctor when she’d tried to conceive.
Davis nodded. “Yes, and it seems as though Mrs. Bancroft and your uncle were in to see him several times for consultation. They wanted to have a baby. I followed up with the doctor before heading over here. Mrs. Bancroft used a sperm donor. Her story checks out.”
“Oh my God. I thought for sure . . . I thought she’d been unfaithful. I thought Dwayne and her had somehow planned this. No wonder she looked as if she hated me.”
“It was an easy mistake to make, Michaela. I can see how you assumed what you did.”
She was stunned. Wow. She’d really been off base there, now hadn’t she? “Well, what about Dwayne, and what I told you about the breeding scheme?”
“We only spoke last night. I’m following up.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
“Among other things. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“You did? I’m fine. Really. That was nice of you.”
“Coffee tomorrow, right? The Honey Bear? Four?”
“I’ll be there.”
Davis’s pager went off. “I’ve got to go.”
“Everything okay?”
“Police work.” He started to walk away quickly. That page must’ve been important.
TWENTY-EIGHT
MICHAELA WALKED TO HER TRUCK AND LEANED against it, looking out at the green rolling hills of the cemetery and the flowers that adorned various graves. The little chapel and funeral home were connected on one of the hills to the left of her. It was a crisp December day—typical Southern California weather—not overcast, but rather a blue sky filled the air with a handful of billowing clouds. Normally, she would have considered it a beautiful day—definitely a good day to get out and ride . . .
“Nice speech.”
Michaela turned to see none other than Kirsten standing there, decked out in a black v-neck tight-fitting dress that left nothing to the imagination. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to pay my respects. Your uncle was a respected horseman and I felt I owed it to him to come by.”
“God, can’t you go crawl under a rock or something? You’re not welcome here.”
“I didn’t know I needed to be invited. It was in the paper, and like I said, I’m only doing the right thing by paying respect to the consummate cowboy.”
Oh brother. Michaela didn’t have the strength for a go-around with her. “Thank you. That was kind of you.” She figured if she stayed the course that Miss Rodeo America would be on her way. Kirsten was another one she’d like to question. She owed Michaela some answers, like why in the hell were her fingerprints on Michaela’s pitchfork? And, hadn’t Davis seen her in the funeral home? She knew he was trying to locate Kirsten. Come to think of it, Michaela hadn’t spotted her either, and Kirsten was definitely one who made sure she was seen. That was strange in itself. But she had to have been in the home to have heard Michaela’s eulogy.
“I know you ran into Brad the other night.”
“I did.” Nope. The bitch wasn’t going to exit nicely.
“I would really like it if you could back off of him. I don’t know when you’re going to accept that he is gone out of your life. He ain’t coming back.” Michaela shook her head and sighed. “Oh, he told me all about how you bought him a drink and tried coming on to him, how you wanted him back and how you would forgive him.”
Michaela didn’t think her neck and shoulders could grow any tighter, but she was wrong. “Honestly, Kirsten, I don’t know why we’re having this conversation.”
“Because you can’t keep your hands off of my man.”
Michaela laughed. She didn’t want to go here, but she had no choice. “The last thing I want back in my life is Brad. Okay? Let me explain to you and hopefully you’ll understand this, but Brad was the one who came on to me the other night. He begged me to forgive him and take him back. Once I told him, unequivocally, no, he had to be chased off by a friend of mine. He apparently crawled back home to you; I don’t know why he fed you this ridiculous story. You two get off on the drama. You deserve each other, but the facts are, he’s a creep and always will be. And, you, like me, will probably find out the hard way when he dumps your ass for a new model in a couple of years.”
Saddled with Trouble Page 20
